Tales of Slow Brave Athena

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April 24, 2005

Vancouver Discovery Walk 31K

I did either 31K (19.25 miles) or 32K (19.88 miles) today.

I did the Vancouver (USA) Discovery Walk, and today's walks included a 6K, 11K, 21K, 31K, and 42K. This was an American Volkswalking International event. So, my first volkswalking, and my first as an international experience.

I got in to register at about 7am. The first talking I heard was in some slavic language. I registered—$8, pretty cheap for an event. A group of germans in fatigues, a group of Netherlanders in a clutch, a guy with a huge japanese flag.

In my event, maybe 2/3rds of the field were from outside the states. I was amazed, absolutely amazed. Then I remembered that the Victoria International Festival of Walking was last weekend. I wonder where the next weekend is?

We were bussed out to N. Portland, along Marine Dr across from the Expo Center, and let out without fanfare. It begins!

I spent the first couple miles chanting to myself, this is not a race, this is not a race. There were all these walkers, and I could catch up with them, and probably screw up my last 10K, but I tried to hang back, relax, have a good time.

The route took us along the Smith and Bybee lakes, the wastewater treatment center (which really has been developed as a nice wildlife sanctuary, occasional foul smells not withstanding), and then into the working-class neighborhoods of St. Johns. At one point, I had the obligatory interaction with a pitbull on a chain who had gotten loose—he was all love and bad manners, but he freaked out several people walking. A little ways ahead I heard yelling, and it was a woman in her bathrobe, yelling for the dog to come home. The dog ignored her.

We spent some time in Pier Park, which is hilly and wooded and just lovely.

Oh! Some backstory! So in volkswalking, you actually check into the aidstations. They check off your card, and so you're not only expected to stop, you're expected to chat. The volkswalking volunteers are so friendly and enjoyable, it's hard to hit the road again. At most of the stations there were chunky slices of orange and banana, bunches of grapes, cookies, hard candies, and maybe some no-name jel that everyone I saw avoided, along with water and gatorade. At the aidstation/check point at the University of Portland, it was inside the student union, flocked by comfie chairs and flushing, indoor toilets! In fact, a dutch man was camped out, seemingly totally enjoying the comfie chair, and the American co-eds.

The other thing: I was the only person doing the 32K in technical fiber clothing. Everyone else was wearing jeans or dockers, cotton athletic socks, and hiking boots.

After getting out of Pier Park, we proceeded to the south end of the peninsula and walked down Willamette Boulevard. Did I mention that all the walking was on trails or sidewalks or for short stretches along the road? None of this walking in the street stuff.

We were on a sidestreet very close to UP when I was joined by a 42K (eg, marathon) walker. He had gotten lost at some point, and was thinking that he'd be doing a 48K in the end. We chatted, and I of course managed to offend him by saying I was embarrassed that we were taking our international guests by the sewage treatment plant. You know, he said kindly, some people think of it as shit, but I think of it as a living. Oops, good move, VJ.

Soon after that, I saw a little black cat, and it saw me, and it began running full-speed, bounding, at me. I have never had a reception like that from a cat, and I'll say I was touched. It was a tiny little cat with two front legs and one rear, and he showed other signs of hard living. He loved on me quite a lot, and I tried to return the favor. I just wanted to scoop him up and take him with me.

It was a good lesson to me—at this point, my feet were hurting and I knew it was only going to get worse. I had been questioning this commitment to walking longer distances—why was I doing this exactly? And then I see this cat who is so happy to see humans, even though he only has three legs. Wow.

Back up through St. Johns to the waste-treatment plant, then along a dike to the Portland International Raceway. On the dike, I saw two blue herons fly. Blue herons are not a special bird around here—you often see them on the river, or in someone's garden who's made the mistake of having a koi pond. But I had never seen them fly. They have tremendous wingspans, with two different shades of blue, and these outrageously long legs.

By the time I hit the PIR check-point, I was beginning to have some trouble. That was 26K. My feet were hurting, hamstrings unhappy, just generally wanted to lie down in the long grass and go to sleep. I soldiered on. After a detour through the Delta Park Sports Complex, we were on the I-5 freeway bikepath.

It seemed like every step was getting harder, and I had this persistent need to pee, even though I had just stopped at the portapottie at PIR. I had forgotten about my friend the cat, and was feeling pretty sorry for myself. Then, as I passed through an underpass, I exchanged greetings with a homeless guy. When I asked him how he was, he said, Alive, and I don't remember what I said in response, but he said, hey, so much better than the alternative! I agreed, we wished each other a good day, and I was on my way. Slowly.

As we crossed onto Hayden Island, the path goes behind the former Waddles (vacated for a Krispy Kreme, after 60+ years in business—though it appears a Hooters will end up in its place) and a Safeway. I popped into the washroom there and realized that my body had kinda shut down. I couldn't remember how to pee.

It seemed more and more appealing to just call my sweetie and ask him to shuttle me to the hotel where I had registered and left the car, than to walk the last mile across the bridge. But of course, I didn't call. I walked across the bridge. The uphill was harsh. No actually, I didn't notice either the uphill or the downhill on the bridge, but the wierd pedestrian steep stairway (think slats in a 7% grade wheelchair ramp) did just about kill me. Then I had to go up something similar. Even with the hotel in sight, I just wanted to sit down.

But I finished. Went in and collected my medal. Stood for a moment watching a barbershop quintet performing for a room of hardcore volkswalkers here from around the Northwest and the world. Some of them had done 2 days of 42Ks. In Europe, it's not unusual to do 4 days of 42Ks. Crazy.

I timed it, but I killed the timer sometime after finishing, so I really have no idea about time. Let's just say I was a lot slower than at Champoeg, which isn't too surprising when you look at how little I've been spending on walking lately.

Posted at April 24, 2005

Comments

Posted by: susan at April 24, 2005 11:11 PM

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Posted by: Wendy at June 10, 2005 6:03 AM